Dumped
by January's Albatross
Summary: Imagining Mark and Maureen's breakup. Just one idea.


Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, nor any of the characters.

Mark Cohen rolled over in the bed, noticing, not for the first time, just how big it was when only one person occupied it. Strange, how he hadn't thought about that before Maureen. Of course, one wouldn't notice something missing until after it was gone. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, the strawberry-blond haired bohemian sat up, the dark room blurring all objects into one. His hand then moved to the small nightstand located beside the bed, searching carefully for the glasses he had laid down when going to sleep; or, as it had turned out, attempting to sleep.

Climbing out from under the worn comforter, Mark slipped the glasses onto his face and made his way across the room. Opening the door he exited his bedroom, glad to see that his roommate hadn't fallen asleep on the couch. In Mark's mind, he might as well be truly alone if he felt that alone inside.

Letting out a sigh, the filmmaker went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water from the tap. Setting it on a burner, he reached over it to flick on the heat. It was one of two burners that worked on the ancient stove. Of course, he couldn't really complain. They were lucky those two still worked. As he stared at the kettle, he wondered just where Maureen was and where she had been the night before – and the night before that, and the night before that, and in fact almost every night that week.

And Mark was finding it harder and harder to sleep. He was becoming less and less worried about Maureen's safety, however. The first night she had failed to come home he was convinced she had been mugged or raped or kidnapped, or something of the sort. It took all of Roger's effort to convince Mark that Maureen was probably still out with friends. And then, every morning when Mark crawled out of the room, feeling as if the little bit of sleep he had managed to steal had done him no good, there she was, sound asleep on the couch. Her hair was as curly as ever, falling around her face, and normally, her mouth was left open. As he thought about Maureen sleeping, Mark felt a smile grace his lips despite his current mood. Sure, sleeping with your mouth open isn't often thought of as attractive, but Mark couldn't help it. Everything about Maureen was beautiful. That was her charm. She could make you love you even if she held a knife to your throat.

And with those thoughts, and his tea, Mark sat on the couch until the early hours of the morning. It was 4:51 when the door slid slowly open, and his girlfriend entered into the room, her shoes in her hand, so she walked barefoot and made less noise. "Don't bother, Maureen. I'm awake." He said in a distant, flat tone that Mark wasn't even sure really came from him.

Looking back quickly, Maureen gave one of her innocent smiles. "Pookie, why are you still awake?" She whispered quietly, dropping her shoes to one side of the door. "You should be sleeping."

Mark watched her, trying to avoid forgiving her automatically like he always did. He didn't want to have to look at her though, her smile always made him melt. "Where were you, Maureen."

"I was just out, baby." Maureen soon sat beside him on the couch. But when she went to put her arm around his shoulders, Mark pushed her arm back gently, but firmly.

He shook his head. "No, Maureen. Not for every night for a week, Maureen. And not this late, and not telling me, your boyfriend, where you are going!"

Maureen looked slightly troubled, but managed to keep her act up. "Markie, you're just tired. "Look, why don't we go on into bed, we'll get some sleep, and in the morning, I'll make it up to you…" She promised, taking his free hand. She took his cup from him and set it on the table.

Mark stared at the cup, speaking slowly. "Is there somebody else, Maureen?"

"Somebody else, baby, of course not." She laughed as if it were the most ridiculous thing she had heard.

Taking in a deep breath, Mark tried again. "Don't, Maureen." He paused. "Just don't, don't lie to me. I want the truth. You owe me that much."

Maureen looked as if she were going to protest again, but then sighed, letting her hands drop into her lap. "I… I don't know, Mark." She whispered quietly, in a more honest tone than he could ever remember her using before.

Inside, Mark felt as if an icy hand had gripped his heart. He didn't speak, just letting Maureen continue. "See, I've been… hanging around with… well, with somebody else a lot. But I didn't do anything, I swear, baby, I couldn't do that. But, I really don't think… this is working anymore."

Mark's mouth was so dry at this point, he didn't know how he could speak, but he managed. "What's not working, Maureen?"

"Us…" She said very quietly. "Markie, really, I adore you, I do. I just… don't think I love you like I used to. It's changed. And I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't really know how to tell you."

Mark stood up, walking for the window. "So you go and sneak out all night with this other guy…" He shook his head.

"Acutally, baby… Her name is Joanne… She's a lawyer, and there's something I just can't ignore between us." Maureen stood as well, and Mark knew she was pleading with him to say it was already, and that he wasn't mad. But he couldn't. "Mark."

"Joanne? Maureen, what about what was between us, I love you!" He snapped finally, turning around to face her. "You said you loved me too, and then you do this.."

She walked over, and Mark didn't have the strength to deny her pulling him into a hug. "Baby, I do care about you a lot, but it's more like friends, I just, was so afraid to tell you. I didn't want to see you so upset." She rubbed his back, though frowned. He was unresponsive.

Mark figured she expected him to cry, but he wouldn't. "Maureen, I think you… should get some sleep. Go, take my bed. I'm not tired anymore. And… I don't think you living here… will work anymore."

Maureen gave him a smile. "No, it really won't." She kissed his cheek. "You're an amazing person, Mark, and one day, you'll find the right girl for you. I'm just not her. But you are amazing, and I couldn't ask for a better friend." Without giving him a chance to speak further, she left him standing there, and went into his room. But she didn't go to bed. Mark walked over when he heard drawers opening and closing. She was packing her bag. "I'll take some with me now. Joanne won't mind if I spend the night with her. I'll… come back soon for the rest of my stuff." She moved back to him and kissed his cheek again. "Take care of yourself, Mark."

Mark wasn't sure what to say, how to make this any easier. So he just crossed his arms and watched her leave again. She blew him a kiss and shut the door behind her. Mark felt frozen in place. In his mind, their conversation played over in his head, and he felt a strange disconnection from it. It felt as if it had happened to somebody else, and he had merely witnessed it. It hardly seemed real.

Whilst Mark was busy acting like a statue, Roger Davis opened his bedroom door form behind Mark. "Mark? What the hell is going on out here? What are you doing up, it must be four in the morning."

"Five." Mark corrected him expressionlessly.

"Okay… fine, five, so what are you doing?"

"I was waiting for Maureen to get back."

Roger walked over to Mark then. "She's not back yet?"

Mark sighed. "She was just here. She's gone again."

Roger looked quiet confused, looking back to the door. "Where is she going at five in the morning?"

"Joanne's." Mark replied, the moved to take up his cup and walk to the kitchen.

"Who's Joanne?" Roger asked. From his hesitant tone, however, it obviously that he was starting to close in.

"Joanne is a lawyer. And she is the person that Maureen has been spending all her time with this week. And the person that she dumped me for."

Roger swore under his breath. Both of them had known that something like this was likely to happen; they both knew what Maureen was like. But still, Roger walked over to Mark, putting his hand on his shoulder. Mark smiled sadly, putting the cup in the sink. "I'm fine, Roger. Really. It's not surprising." He said, looking back at his friend.

Roger nodded slowly. "Still, if you need to talk, I'm here."

Mark let out a long sigh. "Right now, I'm going to go and try to get some sleep. It's not everyday you get dumped for a woman." He pointed out, attempting a laugh. "Night. Sorry I woke you."

Roger shook his head, pushing his hand through his long hair. "Don't worry about that, Mark. You… you get some rest." He knew what it was like not wanting to talk about something. And Mark did seem to be taking it well. Yes, it was going to hurt, but Roger didn't seem about to push Mark into talking. Mark felt grateful for that.

Making his way back to his room, Mark spoke one last time. "You've got bad morning breath, Roger."

Roger laughed softly, at least Mark was still joking. He headed back into his own room.

Mark walked to his nightstand and took up the picture of him and Maureen. He dropped it into the garbage and sat down on the bed. "Oh well, you're better off without her. You can do better, you don't need her." Mark spoke aloud, quietly. The problem was, he didn't believe it. And that was why the tears began sliding down his cheeks. Laying on his back, Mark cried himself to into a long needed sleep.


End file.
